


Lying In My Bed I Hear the Clock Tick, and Think of You

by Robron101



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Internal angst, M/M, just a lot of angst, missing each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robron101/pseuds/Robron101
Summary: Aaron and Robert have trouble sleeping while apart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've posted anything. I feel kinda shitty about it but I'm sure I'll pull through. If anyone is wondering about Double The Trouble, Double the Fun - yes it's still in commission, no I don't know when the next chapter will be up. Life is hectic, blah blah blah, the usual. I'll work on it at some point, hopefully sooner rather than later.

_Aaron_

Aaron doesn't know what time it is. It's late, past midnight he's sure. His cellmate snoring above him in the top bunk, but sleep evades Aaron. Lying underneath the too thin blanket, his head resting on the lumpy pillow, Aaron stares blankly at the wall, thinking of him. 

The ache inside unbearable. During the day it's a steady beat in the background of his mind, but at night when he's alone with nothing but his thoughts, the pain filters in to consume him so his chest tightens and throat constricts to the point he wants to start clawing at his own neck to try and relieve the pressure of the ghostly hand around his throat. 

He doesn’t cry though. 

No. He’s saving his tears for when he can’t remember what day of the week it is anymore, or when the monochrome days become so unbearable he wants to bash his head against the wall just to shake up his repetitive daily routine, or worse when he finally forgets what Robert smells like. Those will be the time he pours oceans of tears. 

For now, Robert’s scent is haunting him, still fresh in his memory so he can recall each layer of smell that blankets his newly husband. The scent of his expensive oatmeal based soap that Aaron never really cared for. The spicy scent of his aftershave, the smell strong when first applied after his morning shave, so strong you could taste it on your tongue, but at night in bed the scent all but faded so it’s softer, always has Aaron pushing his nose against Robert’s jaw to inhale the residual lingerings of aftershave Aaron’s come to love. Then underneath all those bottled scents is Robert. A scent that has no description except it being _just_ Robert. 

He can almost smell it now, even over the smell of sadness that the walls of this prison seem to be washed in, and the dust and dirt and grime, and the not so fresh smell of his cellmate. If he focuses hard enough, he can smell Robert. 

An ache like no other surges through him, driving him to reach out as if he can find Robert lying next to him, curl his hand around Robert’s bicep for reassurance only to feel nothing but cold air. Aaron’s hand curls into a fist that he jerks back against his chest, a shuddering breath exhaling almost painfully. His hand tingles as if the feel of Robert’s soft skin rested underneath his palm for a moment, and he flinches at the possibility that he might forget what Robert’s skin feels like in the coming months. 

The tightness in his throat swells and he’s afraid he might begin to have a panic attack. He’s not ready for that. Not now at past midnight, curled up into a ball underneath the too thin blanket with darkness surrounding him and the only sound the punched out snores of his cellmate above him. He forces himself to take deep breaths, burying his face into his pillow and screws his eyes shut tight; recalling the image of his husband as they danced at the wedding reception. 

“I miss you,” the words are so quiet, Aaron’s not even sure he’d spoken them aloud. 

\----

_Robert_

 

Robert tosses and turns, uncomfortable in the worst way possible. The bed is the same as always, soft enough that he can relax into the mattress but firm enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s being swallowed up by it. No, he knows the problem. His grumpy husband isn’t there to share the bed with him, or hog the covers, or act like he doesn’t want to be spooned only to drift closer to Robert until their bodies are pressed and curled together. 

Robert let’s loose and honest to goodness growl before pushing himself up into sitting position, reaching over and flipping on his bedside lamp. He looks over to the empty space beside him and something in him crumbles. The harsh sting of tears blur his eyes and he has to swallow over and over to keep a lump from forming in his throat. 

_It wouldn’t be so bad if the bed didn’t smell like him,_ Robert tells himself. He’s tempted to go downstairs and kip on the sofa for the night. Chas would understand, not even mention it, but he’s not sure if he could stand Charity taking the mick out of him for it. He’s on edge enough as it is with Aaron gone, he’s not sure he’d be able to stop himself from doing something stupid like “accidentally” pushing her down the stairs.

His hand snakes out and runs over Aaron’s side of the bed, shivering from how cold it is. The stinging returns to his eyes as he thinks about how truly _unfair_ this situation is. It’s too harsh of a sentence. What’s a year of being terrified in prison going to teach Aaron about controlling his anger that he can learn on the outside through counselling. At least then Robert wouldn’t have to wait a year to begin his marriage, wait a year to finally have a home with his little, proper, ready made family. He finally has it all. The family he’s always wanted, the sense home and love, and for once he knows he’ll never be lonely again. Only problem is he has to wait a year for it all because the justice system is fucked. 

Robert sighs and turns off the bedside lamp and curls back underneath the duvet, grabbing Aaron’s pillow and bringing it to him, holding it in his arms as he takes deep breaths of Aaron’s clinging scent on the pillowcase. He knows that self pity and anger isn’t going to bring Aaron home, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling those things or thinking this bed is too empty or _missing_ his husband so bad he aches inside. 

“I miss you,” Robert breathes into the pillow and doesn’t think about what will happen when the bed, the pillow all start to fade of Aaron’s scent. When all that’s left is just himself. Instead he hugs the pillow tight, imagines it’s Aaron, and tries to fall asleep.


End file.
